Edith’s Diary Read Online Free PDF Page B

promise.’
    Edith didn’t want to say bluntly that it appeared a permanent move. ‘Yes. If he’s got enough money to live somewhere else – and it appears he has.’
    ‘Sure.’
    ‘What’s his money in? Stocks?’
    ‘Some kind of trust, I think. He gets a certain income.’
    Edith wanted to have a bath and go to bed and read, but George was in the bathroom. She could see the light under the door. The bathroom was absolutely silent. Edith seized the moment to see if all was well in George’s room, and noticed that Brett had not taken down the tray, though he had come up to chat with George after the dishwashing. Edith picked it up from the floor. George had eaten everything.
    A firm, assertive belch came suddenly from the bathroom, and Edith smiled, even shook with laughter for an instant.
    In the days that followed, it became evident that George could come down for his meals, but he came down or not, according to whim. Anyway on the days (or noons or evenings) when he wanted a tray brought up, he didn’t say that his back was any worse than on the days when he came down for two or three meals. He never dressed for breakfast, just wore bathrobe and pajamas, and didn’t always get dressed for dinner.
    When the Johnsons came for dinner one Saturday night, George did get dressed, and though stooped and stiff as ever, talked a lot and plainly enjoyed the company. George had worked as Paris representative for his law firm in his late twenties, and he had amusing anecdotes to relate. Gert and Norman Johnson lived in Washington Crossing about ten miles away. Norman was a free-lance interior decorator, Gert a painter as well as commercial artist, and she had also been a journalist for a while in Philadelphia. They had three children, the oldest twelve, and they hadn’t much money. Edith rather liked them for their bohemianism (their house was a mess), their sense of humor, and left-wing politics. Edith’s idea of starting a discussion club that would meet once a week at Edith’s house, or at the house of anybody else who was willing, had brought a quick response from Gert. Gert had offered her own house at once, and Edith had gone, bringing one recruit, Ruby Maynell, whom Edith had met in the Brunswick Corner grocery store, where she had met Gert also. And Gert had invited a youthful widow from Washington Crossing, plus another woman who hadn’t come. Edith had had some ideas for topics, and they had discussed them for twenty minutes or so, then the conversation had wandered. Such meetings needed a chairman, Edith knew. One could always try again, and she meant to. The same Trenton printer whom she and Brett intended to engage for the
Bugle
had said he could also print throw-away notices in regard to meetings. That was what they needed, real meetings of twenty or more, men and women, and if they got a discussion group going with at least twelve attending every time, the Brunswick Corner Town Hall could be lent to them, Gert had said. The Town Hall had heating and plenty of folding seats.
    The Johnsons had brought their oldest, Derek, along at Edith’s request. Derek went to a different school from Cliffie and was doing well, especially in math and physics, much to his parents’ surprise. He was a slender, blondish boy with slightly wavy hair, a long nose and intense eyes. Now he stared at George Howland, opposite him at the table, like a painter memorizing a face for future use, until finally George said:
    ‘You’ve got photographic eyes, my boy, as well as a photographic memory?’ George chuckled and glanced at Edith. ‘I think he’s taking a slow daguerreotype.’
    George was sensitive about some things, insensitive about others, Edith had noticed.
    Gert heard this and looked at her son.
    Derek blushed. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘That’s more like it.’ Gert’s pudgy face broke into a warm grin as she looked at Edith.
    They were dining on rather good spare ribs with barbecue sauce. Norm’s fingers were greasy to the